


This Glorious Mess

by theweightofmywords



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Bottom Louis, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Mpreg Louis, OT5, Post-Break Up, mentions of a panic attack and c-section surgery, mentions of xander i'm sorry it's for the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-11-02 12:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.





	This Glorious Mess

**March**

Louis runs his hands over his shirt again as he approaches the door to their-- no, _Harry’s _flat. As he sets the empty cardboard box down on the hallway floor, he sighs. After gathering up the last of his things, he’ll be completely moved out.

Moved out and moving on, he tells himself.

The door swings open before he can even knock. Harry stands in front of him, and he is smiling. Louis doesn’t know how he is managing to do this, when he feels like every moment is a battle to stop from crying. He takes Harry’s smile as confirmation that his choice to leave was the only one he had.

“Hey, Lou, come on in,” Harry says, moving to the side to let Louis pass.

Louis scans the room, noticing all the small changes to the space. Gone are his plethora of shoes discarded by the door. His photo frames no longer line the shelves, and the corner where his guitar used to reside is now empty. The years that he and Harry had spent together seem to have vanished. The hours they spent at the dining table in comfortable silence, the words they exchanged cuddled close on the sofa, the way the hardwood has worn down over the years that they had made this their home-- 

Harry clears his throat.

“I, um,... I just put the rest of your clothes in this basket,” he says, looking anywhere but at Louis.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Probably more sturdy than your cardboard box,” Harry chuckles, digging his hands into his jean pockets.

“Yeah, probably,” Louis echoes.

They stand there for what feels like ages before Louis feels like he could just crumple from the weight of the awkward silence.

“So, the laundry basket? Where is it?” he asks, his voice sounding too loud. His chest feels sad as he thinks back to all the times he was louder than this, his voice bouncing off the walls in their years together here.

Harry startles, as if he was equally lost in his thoughts. He chews on his bottom lip as he nods.

“Just a mo’,” he says, walking quickly towards their bedroom. _Harry’s_ bedroom, Louis reminds himself.

Louis exhales, feeling his throat well up as he watches Harry walk away. He wonders if Harry still sleeps on the same side of the bed. He turns to see Harry walking back towards him, hefting a laundry basket in his arms.

“Here you go,” he says, dropping it carefully at his feet.

“Thanks,” Louis replies. He picks it up, holding the awkwardly large basket in his arms.

“Do you need help bringing it-”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Louis nods as he slowly turns towards the door.

He makes the mistake of looking at Harry.

His smile has faded from his face, and Louis can see the wobble in his bottom lip. Tears fill his eyes as he looks away.

A thud fills the room as Louis drops the basket to the floor. He takes a tentative step towards Harry, unsure of what to do. He hates how he feels unsure, when their every move felt so natural for so many years.

“Haz,” he murmurs, reaching his hand out slowly before settling it on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Harry replies. “I’m okay. It’s just… a change.”

Louis just nods, as guilt courses through him. This is all his doing, his choice. He just felt like it was for the better. They had fallen apart so slowly it was nearly imperceptible, and Louis felt like they both deserved better than rushed greetings and business-like texts. He can't even remember the last time they had a meal together or just sat and talked. There were so many times he would catch Harry just staring at him. One lazy morning, Harry had smiled with a blush and mumbled something about how he likes to sit and admire him. Louis wracks his brain to recall the last time he had caught Harry just staring, the last time he had felt like something to be cherished and admired.

Harry coughs before clearing his throat. Standing up straighter, he rubs at his face quickly.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asks with a shaky voice.

Louis rubs his eyes, unsurprised to feel wetness on his hands. The thought of leaving Harry for good is terrifying, even though he knows he is just delaying the inevitable.

“That’d be great, thanks,” he breathes, as relief courses through him that he can stay just a bit longer. He sits down on the sofa that used to be his but now feels strange beneath him. Tucking his feet beneath him, he stares across the open space at Harry, who is making him a cup of tea with a concentrated fervour.

Harry had always been good at making his tea. Louis thinks back to their first few months together, when everything was new and full of potential. It was over a perfectly-made cup of tea that Louis first thought that Harry was the One. As he sips his tea, still perfectly made, he feels Harry settle down next to him. Their sofa had always been too small, more of a loveseat than anything, but they had spent long hours together on that couch, huddled under blankets, hands tied together by whispered conversations and raucous laughter. It was theirs.

Louis can feel the heat from Harry’s leg as it presses against his. It’s almost too much, yet not enough.

“How is your new place?” Harry asks as he stares straight ahead. Louis wonders if he feels just as frozen and out of place as he does.

“It’s pretty empty still… it’s not decorated yet. I mean, I had a few years here, so it’ll take a little while to get it feeling like home,” Louis answers, his voice crumbling. “I mean, that’s natural, I’ve not been on my own for years, and-”

Louis stills when he feels Harry’s hand atop his own. He looks up to see Harry’s sad smile.

“Lou,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Louis knows this. Even if he was technically the one who suggested they break up, the descent to their fallen state was propelled by both of them. Too many nights spent in silence, in separate rooms, followed by days where they’d barely even look at each other. They stopped asking each other how their days went. For their last birthdays, they gave throwaway gifts without cards. There was no hatred, but Louis almost wished there was. It would be better than this cold ambivalence that had settled between them. Instead, Harry had barely put up a fight. He just nodded and said that he understood, extinguishing the flicker of hope that Louis had hidden away.

“I’m sorry too,” he whispers as a tear slips down his face.

Harry holds Louis’ face in his hands, and at this touch, Louis feels his eyes slip shut. Thumbs brush away his tears, and he can’t help but lean into his touch.

“Can I?” Harry asks. Even with his eyes closed, Louis feels like he can see the hesitation in his eyes. He knows what he’s going to ask. He knows he should say no.

“Yes,” he breathes.

It’s a kiss unlike any of the ones they’ve shared in the past six months. It’s warm, and it’s gentle, and it’s tender. It’s the kind that made Louis fall in love in the first place.

Louis holds Harry’s face in his hands, pulling him closer into him. He wants to memorise the way his hair feels between his fingertips, the sound of his gasps, his whispering voice. If this is the last time, he wants to remember each moment.

They stand, hands still grasping at each other. The moment is filled with the kind of desperation that Louis thought only reunited lovers had, but he supposes, as he flits his eyes open to catch a glimpse of Harry’s face, that that is what they are.

At least for now.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks.

“Just one last time,” he replies.

Harry’s face falls but he nods, and wordlessly, they make their way down the narrow hallway, lined with fewer photos than the last time that Louis had traversed the small space. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and lets Harry guide him to the bed, not wanting to see the empty spots on the walls, not wanting to see the bare floors where his clothes used to lay.

Moments later, when Harry slides inside, Louis clings to Harry, the tips of his fingers tracing the tattoos down his chest and stomach. He gasps for air before biting back words that he knows he cannot say anymore. Harry is all around him, his voice in his ear, his hands holding him tight. He moves within him, and Louis feels nothing but safe. He wonders if it’s too late to change his course, to right their ship.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.

It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.

“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.

“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.

Louis grabs Harry’s face and brings him into a kiss, his eyes squeezed shut.

* * *

**April**

The first thing that Louis notices when he wakes up is that his room is unusually bright. Groggily, he flips his phone over to check the time.

“10:00?” he croaks, astounded at the late hour. He had fallen asleep at nine the night before, after his eyes kept drifting closed when trying to read a book.

Louis sits up, wondering if maybe he should scale back his hours. He had opened his own hair salon about a year ago, and in addition to working five days a week there, he often saw private clients in their home for extra cash. He knows that he probably shouldn’t work nearly seven days a week, but he loves his profession and the creativity and freedom it affords him. But the ambition he had put forth to build his dream didn’t do any favours for his relationship with Harry.

They had met in art school. Louis had dropped out by the end of their first year to attend cosmetology courses, while Harry gone on to graduate with his degree. After graduation, though, Harry never found a job in art. While Louis worked steadily in various salons, building up his experience and his portfolio, Harry struggled with vacillating from low-paying jobs in the art field and soul-sucking but higher-paying desk jobs. Shortly after Louis finally opened his shop, Harry started working for a start-up company doing sales and marketing. Though they both went into it with cynical expectations, Harry found that he was good at it. He enjoyed it, even.

Their lifestyles couldn’t be any different. Harry was suddenly thrust into a world of impressing clients with expensive company-paid lunches. His wardrobe filled with old t-shirts and ripped jeans was soon overtaken by sleek suits and shiny shoes. He was at the office by 8 am and often wouldn’t get home until past dinner.

It’s not that Louis had time to wait around for him either, though. He had a few other employees who could open the shop, which afforded him the luxury of setting his own hours. But prime time at the salon was afternoons, evenings, and weekends, and his ambition to become a top stylist in the area meant that he had to constantly hustle. He worked most days, but even on his days off, he maintained a steady stream of Instagram posts. It wasn’t long before he realised that they barely saw each other anymore.

“We’ll make it work,” Harry had promised, a few months after Louis’ salon had opened. “I’m so proud of you.”

Louis had thanked him with a kiss, trusting that they would make it through. Opening a small business was a huge feat, and he figured they were just in a time of transition. They had made it through years of school and terrible jobs. Louis thought they had forever together, so a few bumpy months wouldn’t do much damage.

Now, sitting alone in bed on a Monday morning, he wonders what Harry is doing. He wonders if Harry is now savouring the clean and order of his flat, now that Louis wasn’t there. He wonders if Harry misses him too.

He pushes these thoughts away and tries to move on with his day.

As he gets ready to go to a client’s house to do a full cut and colour, he notices how his body aches. Wincing, he pulls his shirt away from his chest. His nipples feel sore, as if they’ve been twisted and exposed to ice, and not, Louis notes, in a good way.

Shrugging, he takes some paracetamol before heading out to work, dragging his cart full of tools and products behind him.

Nearly six hours later, he returns home, smelling of bleach and hair product. His head is pounding, and he feels dead on his feet.

He flops onto the sofa, knowing that he should shower, but the thought of moving makes him want to cry.

“It’s not like anyone’s here to impress,” Louis mutters. He flips on the telly to find a football match on, already near the end of the second half. Pulling a blanket over him, he finally feels cozy, and he lets the sound of the commentators fill the silence of his flat.

With ten seconds left on the clock, one of the footie players scores a goal from across the field. She falls to her knees, her mouth wide as she screams in jubilation. Her teammates run over to her and tackle her to the ground.

Louis feels his face heat up as his eyes begin to burn with tears.

“God, that’s beautiful. They’re so happy,” he cries. He laughs at himself when he realises that he is full-on weeping over a football match that he was not even too invested in. “What the fuck, Tommo, get it together.”

The tears continue as he sees the footie players walk off the field, arms still around each other in a warm embrace. Shaking his head, he flips to the next channel. Louis recognises the film as one that Harry used to watch regularly. Fondly, he remembers how Harry liked playing movies in the background as he worked around the house.

“That’s my sweetheart in there. Wherever she is, that’s where my home is,” the old man on screen says with conviction. Louis feels his lip quiver, and before he knows it, he is sobbing.

He misses Harry so much, it hurts. His new flat is fine. It's spacious enough, it has good water pressure and the windows aren't drafty. Everything is fine, except, there is no Harry beside him when he wakes up. He doesn't have to worry about leaving dishes in the sink or wet towels on the bathroom floor, because there is no Harry to sigh in fond exasperation as he cleans it up. There is no Harry to rub his feet or shoulders after a long day of work. Louis no longer has to worry about sweat-soaked t-shirts stinking up his bedroom, because there is no Harry that comes home after a long run, no Harry to slosh water over the sides of the tub when he takes long baths. There is no Harry to try to make him laugh with corny jokes or to tangle his legs with in the middle of the night. There is no Harry to laugh with when he hears something funny, and there is no Harry to kiss him goodnight. There is no Harry and all the beautiful and infuriating things that came with him. Gasping for air in between sobs, he turns the telly off.

“I hate rom-coms,” he mumbles, as he walks towards his bedroom, his throw blanket still wrapped around him. “Stupid Harry and his stupid films.”

-

It’s midway through a balayage that Louis’ stomach starts to churn. In a panic, he sets his tinting brush and mixing bowl on his workstation before running off to the bathroom, ripping his gloves off in the process. His knees hit the ground in front of the toilet right as he empties the contents of his stomach.

Wiping his forehead of the cold sweat that had settled there, he winces at the taste of vomit. He stands up to wash his face and rinse his mouth, puzzled as to the sudden nature of his sickness. He was having a good morning so far, and nothing seemed amiss.

“You okay, Louis?” Bebe, one of the other stylists, asks.

“Yeah,” Louis replies. He gauges if he is still feeling ill, only to find that his stomach feels perfectly normal. “Oddly enough, I feel fine now. Must’ve been some bad milk this morning.”

Bebe doesn’t look convinced, and she places the back of her hand against Louis’ forehead.

“Hm, I don’t think you have a fever,” she says. “Let me finish painting your client’s hair so you can rest.”

Louis is about to protest, but the look in his friend’s eyes warns him not to. “Okay, okay, fine. Just come get me when it’s time to wash it out.”

While he’s in the back break room, he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. His stomach gurgles, and he wonders if maybe he should start eating something for breakfast other than muffins and cereal. Living with Harry had made him comfortably accustomed to actual breakfasts. He hasn’t spoken to Harry since the last time they had seen each other nearly two months ago, but he wonders if there is still enough goodwill to ask him for his frittata recipe.

While it’s true that Louis really needs to widen his breakfast repertoire, maybe he just wants an excuse to text him. Recalling the way his stomach had roiled, Louis swallows his pride and searches for their text message chain.

He scrolls and scrolls towards the bottom of his inbox to find it. A pang shoots through his heart as he recalls the time when Harry was always at the top of the list, the person he spoke to the most. He types and erases his message about three times before he finally presses send.

_Could you send me the recipe for that egg thing you make- the frittata? Also, I hope you’re doing okay. Thanks, mate!_

He cringes at how forced the _mate_ feels. When they were together, they used to teasingly call each other “mate” because they knew that they were anything but just friends. “Pass me my tea, _mate_,” Louis would joke over early morning breakfasts together. “Come and cuddle me _mate_,” Harry would shiver as he’d pull Louis to his chest, their feet entwined under the covers of their drafty bedroom.

Now, the word stares back at Louis like a taunt.

The three dots pop up on the screen, and Louis tries not to drop his phone in anxious anticipation.

_Sure, I can email it. How are you? _

Louis again starts to type, only to find himself answering with a vague and meaningless response. His thumbs still, hovering over the too-bright screen. What he really wants to say is that he’s been crying over everything lately, and he’s just trying to stay busy because nothing feels the way it should, that it’s not just the breakfasts he misses but that he misses him, misses _them._

Instead, he says:

_Work is crazy! I’m good though!_

He sets his phone on the table face down and lets out a long and shaky exhale.

* * *

**May**

Louis kneads his fists into his lower back as he hobbles over to one of the salon chairs. Slumping down, he lets his head hang over the back of it.

“Zayn, I could fall asleep right now,” he mumbles, feeling deliriously tired.

“I don’t know how comfortable it’d be to fall asleep in one of the chairs,” his fellow stylist and longtime friend answers. “Just go home.”

“I can’t go home, I’m starving.”

He hears Zayn laugh quietly to himself as he sweeps up the floor around his workstation. “Why didn’t you eat the food I offered you earlier?”

“It wasn’t a chip butty,” Louis replies, pulling his shirt up to rub his growling stomach. “All I want are chip butties.”

“Looks like you’ve had one too many chip butties,” Zayn quips, gesturing towards Louis’ trouser buttons, held precariously together with a hair tie.

“Are you calling me fat, Malik?” Louis scoffs, sitting up suddenly. His pants mysteriously seemed to get tighter over the last two weeks. He wasn’t sure if it was his diet or if he just needed to exercise more. He blamed his most recent chip butty addiction. Nearly all of his favourite foods seemed disgusting to him lately- not even cereal was immune from his repulsion. The only thing that had seemed to make the cut unscathed was chips.

“Relax. Even if I was, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I could go for a chip butty myself right now.”

Louis snaps his fingers and jumps to his feet. “That sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Better than my idea to work for you?” Zayn smiles, tucking a cigarette behind his ear.

“With how ravenous I am, it might be,” Louis says, slipping his arm through Zayn’s.

He locks up the salon before emerging into the cool May night. He could smell the aroma of fried goodness in the air. Grateful that the chip shop was just around the corner, he tugs Zayn’s arm as he sped up.

“Hold on, Lou, I’m gonna smoke before I go in,” Zayn says, slowing to a stop outside of the shop. “Go on, though, Mr. Ravenous.”

“I’ll get you one,” Louis tells him before pulling open the door.

It’s packed, given that it’s a Friday night. As he waits in line, he hears a familiar voice rise above the din of the crowd. Turning his head, he sees Harry and a dark-haired man with serious eyes and an equally serious mustache standing by the counter as they wait for their order. Before he can turn back, Harry catches his gaze.

He smiles and waves, and before Louis could make himself disappear, he starts to make his way through the crowd.

“Hey,” Harry says, nudging his elbow in greeting.

“Hey,” Louis echoes, his arms swinging uselessly by his sides. He feels his face heat as the awkwardness threatens to swallow him whole.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, c’mere,” Harry urges, wrapping his arms around Louis. He smells the same, and for a moment, Louis lets his eyes close. He knows he is only confusing his heart by letting himself enjoy how it feels to be in Harry's arms, but he can't find it in himself to care. Just a few seconds, he tells himself. 

“We can hug. It won’t kill us,” Harry mumbles, as if he can read Louis' mind. 

At this, Louis relaxes, letting his anxiety bubble up and out as laughter. “Yeah, I know. I just… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry steps back and smiles, a trace of sadness lingering in his eyes. “What are you gonna order?”

“Probably a chip butty. I can’t seem to get enough of them lately,” Louis replies. He quickly smooths his oversized t-shirt over his stomach, hoping that Harry doesn’t notice the extra weight he’s gained since they broke up.

“Good choice. I got the usual.”

Louis grins and quirks a brow. “Chips with peas?”

With a shrug, Harry says, “I love a pea.”

Louis thinks back to the days he’d find Harry sitting at the table, a plate of peas in front of him. “Oh, I know,” he laughs. He spots the dark-haired man looking around the shop for Harry. “I think your friend is looking for you.”

Harry shouts at the man to start eating without him before turning his attention back to Louis. “That’s Mitch. He works in the tech development at work- you met him before at one of the happy hours, remember?”

Louis raises his brows as his smile falters. “Oh. Right. That’s nice,” he says, hating how weak his voice sounds.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh before mumbling, “Not that this should matter, but nothing’s happening.”

“You should though, if you want to. Go out and meet people,” Louis replies. He ignores the images of Harry’s arms around another man and forces himself to smile.

Harry’s brow furrows. “But I don’t want to. I’ve never wanted to.”

“Haz-”

“And how about you? Are you meeting people?” Harry asks, his tone cautious.

Louis snorts. “Absolutely not. Haven’t really felt up for it, honestly.”

“Why not?”

“Just not feeling so good lately.” He can see that Harry is about to worry, so he quickly assures him- “Just some stomach issues and feeling more tired than usual. Nothing to worry about.”

Harry just grins, his eyes dimming. “I worry anyway.”

Louis’ breath hitches in his chest as sadness courses through him. It has felt like so long since he felt like Harry worried or even cared for him. A year ago, if someone were to tell him that he would be grasping for words to fill uncomfortable silence- if they were to tell him that he would be standing with his hands shoved into his pockets because it wasn’t his place to hold Harry’s hand anymore, he would have laughed in their face.

“I think I heard my order being called,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Why don’t you join us?” Harry tries, gesturing towards the wall where Mitch is standing.

“No, that’s okay. Zayn’s outside, think I’ll just go.”

“Lou-”

“It was good seeing you!” Louis waves, dodging between the crowds as he tries to breathe. Luckily, his order was waiting for him at the counter.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, his shoulders sag in relief when he spots Zayn snubbing out his cigarette.

“Give me one of those,” he urges, grabbing his cigarette packet from his shirt pocket.

* * *

**June**

The pub is crowded with people in office clothes, their ties loosened, half-priced happy hour drinks in their hands. Louis sips his pint as his eyes light up. He sees their waitress approaching, plates of food in hand.

“The deluxe pub burger?” The waitress asks, looking between Louis and his best friend Liam.

Louis raises his hand eagerly as she places the hot plate down. As she puts Liam’s salad on the table, he sheepishly turns towards her.

“This is an odd request, but do you have any peanut butter?”

She furrows her brows with a smile. “I actually think we might! I can have a look?”

“That’d be great, cheers,” Louis replies, tipping up his pint glass. He glances over at Liam, who is hesitantly holding his fork with a grimace on his face. “What?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to put peanut butter on your burger,” he says flatly.

Louis blushes as he shrugs. “I don’t know where the idea came from, but it’s actually pretty good. You should try it!”

Liam hums with suspicion as he digs into his salad. “Other than your odd eating habits, how’ve you been, mate?”

Louis picks at the chips on his plate. “Better, actually. I’d been feeling so tired, but lately I’m much better.”

“Oh? Everything okay?” Liam asks with concerned eyes.

“I think so. There was a period where I was throwing up a lot too, but it’s been a few weeks since then.”

Liam puts his fork down slowly as his eyes flit from Louis to his half-full pint glass. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Can I try your beer?”

Louis nods his assent. His eyes widen as he realises that Liam is gulping down the whole thing. He slaps Liam's arm in an attempt to stop him from finishing his drink.

“Oi! If you like it so much, order your own!”

Liam gasps for breath as he sets the glass on the table. “That was-” he burps, “great! How about I get you a lemonade? Or a water?”

Louis squints his eyes as he shakes his head. He didn’t envision spending his Friday night at the pub drinking lemonades. It had been a tough few weeks, and now that he was feeling better, he wanted to let loose a little with his best friend.

“A lemonade? Really? No offense. Li, but I fully intend on getting proper smashed tonight.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “No!”

“What do you mean, ‘No’?” Louis shoots back. The waitress places a small bowl of peanut butter on the table. Louis smiles briefly at her. “Thank you.”

Liam watches in horror as he spreads peanut butter on the burger, and his mouth drops as Louis bites into it, the peanut butter oozing out the sides.

“You’ve gotta try this,” Louis urges.

“I’ll pass,” Liam winces. “I just… Lou, have you seen a doctor lately?”

Louis shakes his head as he keeps munching on his concoction. “I was thinking about it, but then I started feeling better. Why?”

Liam lets out a slow breath before continuing. “Have you… er… gained weight?”

Louis sets his burger down and throws a chip at Liam’s head.

“Your dumb boyfriend said the same thing! And so what if I have?” he retorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tries to ignore the way his arms are resting comfortably on his protruding stomach.

Liam raises his hands in front of him. “Zayn and I would never mean it as a criticism! I just…” he falters. “Have you… um…”

Louis raises his brow as he waits for Liam to finish his sentence. Exasperated, he jumps down from his chair. “While you gather your thoughts, I’m getting another round.”

“Wait!” Liam’s hand shoots out to grab Louis’ arm. “I’ll get this round! It’s on me!”

Louis pauses before he nods slowly. “O...kay. You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Liam replies, laughing slightly maniacally. “I just feel like being generous! No big deal!”

He rushes off to the bar before Louis can say anything back. As he eats some more of his chips, he takes out his phone. Although he knows he shouldn’t, he opens his messages to Harry.

_Have you ever put peanut butter on a hamburger?_

The message is delivered, but the telltale dots don’t show up. Louis figures that maybe Harry’s phone is still on silent from work. He looks up to see Liam setting down an icy glass filled with red liquid in front of him.

“What is this?” Louis asks, perplexed. “You know I’m not into these-”

“Bartender’s special! It’s got schnapps and vodka in it. A sunset something or other,” Liam explains as he lifts his own to his lips. “See, I’ve got one too!”

Louis takes a sip. It’s sweet but tangy, and he shrugs. “It’s not bad. Though I can’t really taste any alcohol in it.”

Liam snaps and points, as he laughs a bit too loudly. “That’s the trick, eh?”

They continue eating, and when Louis’ plate is empty, he stands to get the next round.

“My treat, Lou,” Liam interjects, placing a hand on his arm again.

“No way, Li, it’s my turn to buy!”

“I insist! I’ll get more of these drinks-”

“You mean this sugar water? It’s not even getting me buzzed!”

“I mean, maybe we shouldn’t get wasted tonight. Maybe let’s just stick to waters and lemonades?” Liam suggests, moving to stand in front of Louis.

“C’mon, Liam, it’s a Friday evening,” Louis groans. He had been looking forward to hanging out with his best friend. He desperately needed the distraction from his empty and too-quiet flat. He wanted to get thoroughly drunk and dance with faceless strangers on the dance floor.

“I just really don’t feel like drinking,” Liam insists.

“But earlier, you were all excited to get smashed with me-”

“Yeah, well I changed my mind.”

Louis pauses and eyes the other man suspiciously. “What’s going on?” he asks, slowly.

“Nothing’s going on, can’t a man change his mind?”

Louis sighs before standing up straight. Decisively, he turns towards the bar. “Fine. You’ve changed your mind, but I haven’t!”

“Louis, stop!” Liam shouts, grabbing onto Louis’ arms again.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me what to do?” Louis scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest again. When they were growing up, Liam had been more reserved and uptight, but Louis had always been able to get him to break out of his shell. Even when Louis was dating Harry, he and Liam enjoyed spending their pub nights. Liam always had Louis’ back, and vice versa.

“Louis, you can’t,” Liam pleads, his eyes apologetic.

“And why not?” Louis asks, his chin jutted as he waits for an answer.

Liam pauses, his jaw dropped open. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

Liam rubs his face before looking around at the crowded pub. “I don’t know if this is the right place for this conversation.”

Moments later, Louis’ head is spinning as he realises that Liam has dragged him to the family planning aisle of the nearest pharmacy.

“Why… why did you bring me here?” Louis asks. He eyes the multitude of pregnancy tests, his mouth suddenly dry.

“The vomiting, the exhaustion, the weird food cravings, the weight gain,” Liam lists, his voice gentle.

“I had my cycle,” Louis says quietly, as he recalls the days where he felt tired and feverish. They weren’t as strong as previous cycles, and they definitely weren’t on the same schedule as he was accustomed to, but he was so sure of it. He couldn’t be…

“Louis,” Liam says, his eyes sad. “Maybe you should take one, just in case?”

Louis shakes his head, his throat feeling thick with impending tears. “I’m not. I can’t be.”

Liam places a hand on his back and rubs it soothingly. “Are you sure?”

Louis knows that he and Harry weren’t safe. They slipped up a few times during their time together, and he figured that if he hadn’t gotten knocked up by now, he probably wasn’t very fertile. Harry had even pulled out, and although Louis knew that was by no means foolproof, he reasoned that his odds were still slim.

But the odds were there.

“I can’t be,” Louis repeats, his voice cracking.

“Harry would support you, no matter what you de-”

“We’re not together anymore, Li, this can’t happen,” Louis cries, wiping his face quickly. But with another glance at Liam’s concerned face, he grabs the first test his eyes land on and strides towards the cashier. He knows he should take the test, but after that, all his mind sees is a giant question mark.

It’s quiet as they walk towards the tube.

“Do you want me there when you take it?” Liam asks before Louis heads down the steps.

Louis shakes his head. “I’ll be okay,” he responds. “It’s something I should probably do on my own.”

Liam pulls him into a hug. “You’re not alone, you know.”

Louis’ eyes prickle with tears. His vomiting and exhaustion have passed, but his mood swings and over-the-top emotions haven’t. “Thanks for looking out for me tonight, mate.”

Liam pats his back. “He’d be there for you… for both of you,” Liam says gently. “If that’s what you decide.”

Louis sighs as he fights back more tears. He knows Liam is right. Maybe this is a sign that they really are meant to be together.

“I know. I’ll give you a call,” he says, holding tightly to the chemist’s bag.

“And if you wanna hang out and grab some waters and lemonades, just let me know,” Liam smiles.

\--

Louis stares blankly at the empty seats in front of him as the train jostles him back and forth on his ride home. His mind is filled with nothing but “what if?”

What if he is pregnant? What if he’s done something wrong to his baby because he was too oblivious to notice all the signs? What if their lungs are damaged from all the cigarettes he smoked? What if he drank too much alcohol, or slept on his stomach too much? What if he ate something dangerous? What if Harry is angry with him? What if Harry has moved on?

His heart jumping, he realises that the doors are open at his stop. He rushes out of the train, the bag in tow.

With shaking hands, he opens the door to his dark flat. Setting the package on the bathroom worktop, he stares at it, his hands frozen at his sides. With a shaky breath, he picks up his phone.

Harry hasn’t texted him back. Procrastinating, he opens Instagram. The test still staring up at him, he scrolls aimlessly and decides to watch Harry’s Instagram story.

He watches a video of Harry jumping off a yacht, followed by selfies that Harry has taken with his friends, drinks in hand. His friend Mitch is in the background, along with friends that he had only met once or twice. He never really got along with them, with their focus on appearance and keeping up with whatever was trending. Louis always wondered what Harry saw in them.

“Can I just go out with my friends without you judging me?” Harry had asked, as he pulled on a shirt that Louis had never seen before. It was sheer lace with embroidered roses covering the chest.

“I didn’t say anything!” Louis had replied.

“You don’t need to say anything, your face just did that thing when I mentioned my plans.”

“And what _thing_ is that?”

Harry had curled his lip and rolled his eyes before staring intently at Louis. “That. That thing you do whenever you hate something.”

“Oh, what does it matter if I hate it? You’re going to go anyway,” Louis had muttered.

Harry had snapped his fingers and laughed. Louis remembers thinking that he hated the sound of that laugh, with its cold edge.

“So you _do_ hate it! You _are_ judging me!”

Louis glared at him. “Yeah, I guess I am. By the way, it’s January and freezing cold outside. You look ridiculous in that shirt.”

Harry had only slipped his phone in his back pocket and walked down the hallway.

“You’re the only one who seems to think so!” he had replied flippantly, his keys jingling in his hands.

Louis remembers feeling his stomach fall as Harry’s words echoed in his mind. Did that mean that others thought he looked nice? That others were complimenting him… perhaps _hitting_ on him, while Louis sat alone at their dining table?

It was only a few more weeks until Louis decided that it was over. And now, here he was, most likely pregnant, and Harry was not there with him.

Tears flood his eyes as he hears Harry’s laugh through the video as he films his friends dancing and swimming in blue waters. Louis wonders where they are.

With a twist in his chest, he stares at himself in the mirror. His mouth is a thin worried line, and the bags under his eyes tell of his exhaustion. His gaze falls to the test.

With trembling hands, he rips the package open.

* * *

**July**

Louis stares blankly at the grainy screen, still empty, as he grips his shirt above his ever-growing bump. His heart feels like it might beat out of his chest as Maureen, the ultrasound technician, applies the cold gel to his lower stomach.

“I’m sorry the gel is so cold,” she says, her tone light as she reaches for the wand. Louis’ eyes fill with tears as he realises what is about to happen. Upon hearing his sniffles, she turns to him, her face softening.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, wiping his face quickly. Ever since he took the test a few weeks ago and his world had been flipped upside down, he has been crying at the drop of a hat. Tired of crying, he gestures towards the ultrasound wand. “Go ahead.”

Maureen smiles kindly at him. “Would you like a tissue?”

He wipes his face and nods. Wordlessly, she places tissues in his hand. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’ve never had one,” he explains weakly. “I didn’t even realise I was pregnant until a few weeks ago. I went through half of my pregnancy without… What if I missed something? What if I hurt-”

At this, his face crumples. With his hands covering his face, he lets out shoulder-shaking sobs. He can feel Maureen place a whole tissue box by his side as she rubs his back.

Her voice gentle, she squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s find out, love.”

Louis exhales slowly. “Okay.”

After dimming the lights, Maureen presses the ultrasound wand to his lower abdomen. It glides across his belly as an image pops up on the screen.

A rounded head and a tiny nose, little hands reaching up, legs kicking and stretching.

_Oh._

“That’s my baby,” Louis whispers, his eyes filling with tears of joy and relief.

“That’s your baby,” Maureen murmurs with a smile.

Louis can’t take his eyes off the screen. The baby kicks his legs out before curling them back in.

“A footie player,” Maureen smiles. “Want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis can only nod, his throat thick with tears. Soon, a rhythmic whooshing noise fills the room.

“And if you look here, that little flickering in the chest is the heart. And you can see the little lungs forming too,” Maureen points out.

“It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” Louis cries, his smile stretched across his face.

“Baby certainly has a good heartbeat,” Maureen replies. “I’m going to take a few more photos for the doctor, okay Louis? Just lay back and enjoy.”

Louis watches in fascination as he meets his baby for the first time, each glide of the ultrasound wand showing him a new perspective of his child.

“Did you want to find out the sex?” Maureen asks.

Louis shakes his head. “No… Harry didn’t want-” he falters. “I… don’t want to find out.”

He is thankful for Maureen’s professionalism as she simply nods and continues. To stave off the sadness, Louis focuses on the gentle clicking of Maureen’s keyboard and the rhythmic heartbeat. He stares in awe as he sees his baby stretching and punching with their tiny arms, as he sees their lips move in the womb.

He wonders if the baby will have Harry’s eyes.

He’s broken from his reverie when the doctor walks in.

“Hi Louis, I’m Dr. Clarkson, one of the obstetricians here,” a woman announces with her hand outstretched. “Here for your 20 week ultrasound?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “It’s my first one, since I didn’t realise... and I’m just worried that there’s something wrong.”

Dr. Clarkson nods understandingly. “Let’s take a look.”

She takes the wand and goes through the same process that Maureen did. Louis is happy to stare at his baby on the screen but he also sneaks glances at Dr. Clarkson’s face. After a few tense moments, she puts the wand down and smiles.

“Everything looks good, Louis. Heart rate is strong, your placenta levels are good, and all the organs are a good size. Your baby is developing right on track, and if you’re remembering the start date of your last cycle correctly, your due date is approximately December 24th!”

“That’s my birthday!” Louis exclaims. Images of birthday cakes and blowing out the candles together flash through his mind.

“Well, happy birthday to you both,” Dr. Clarkson grins.

And as Maureen hands him a long string of ultrasound pictures, Louis feels a thrill of hope and excitement course through him. Maybe things will be okay.

* * *

**September**

As Louis sinks into the comfortable cushions, his legs and feet stretched in front of him, Louis has never felt more grateful for Niall’s love of modular sofas. He feels like he should help finish setting up the drinks and food so that Niall could enjoy his own birthday party, but he can’t be bothered.

He is 28 weeks pregnant, and he feels as big as a house.

He pulls a pillow over his stomach, hoping that nobody will notice his bump. It isn’t like Louis set out to keep his pregnancy a secret, but something seemed to stop him every time he started working up the courage to tell Harry.

When he had run into Harry in August at a get-together at Liam’s house, the words fell from his lips when another man sidled up to Harry’s side.

“Hey, I’m Xander,” the man had said, his American accent jarring to Louis’ ears.

“We met when I was on holiday in Jamaica,” Harry had explained.

“The coolest dude I’ve ever met,” Xander added, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, his smile frozen on his face. Consciously, he blinked and forced his voice to sound as natural as possible. “And now you’re here, in London!”

“I try to get out here as much as possible,” Xander said as he grinned at Harry, oblivious to the way that his smile had fallen.

“Lou-” he started, the apology clear in his voice.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Louis said, gesturing towards Liam’s kitchen. He chugged down his ginger ale, wishing there was some whiskey in it, before he slipped out the door. He had texted Liam with an excuse that his ankles were hurting as he pointedly ignored the texts from Harry. He couldn’t bear seeing confirmation that he was doing just fine without him. Louis had quickly deleted them with a swipe of the thumb and eyes squeezed shut the very next morning.

Louis would be lying if he said that he hadn’t avoided Harry since then. His bump was an ever-present reminder that while Harry had moved on, he would never be able to fully.

Watching Niall welcome his guests, Louis rubs his bump gently. He and Baby are thick as thieves. He’s taken to narrating his every movement to Baby, going on long walks before work because he heard it helps make Baby’s organs strong and healthy. Even though he’s rapidly approaching his due date, the only people who know are Liam (and by extension, Zayn) and his family. He isn’t used to being in the position of needing someone to take care of him.

Being with Harry was the first and only time he ever felt like he had someone to look after him.

As more and more people fill Niall’s flat, he pulls the pillow tighter to his torso and grabs the television remote. He tries to make it look like he is on the sofa because he is busy finding something to watch, and since no one looks twice at him, he figures he is successful. He settles on a channel that plays old concert footage, filling the room with classic rock music.

The sofa dips beside him, and before he can escape, he hears the all-too-familiar voice.

“Good choice,” Harry says.

Louis can feel his heart rate speed up, the nearness of his ex sending him into that pleasant panic that could only be described as _butterflies_. Despite the cold that settled between them at the end, no one makes Louis flustered like Harry. He grins as he glances at Harry, hoping that he seems unaffected. “Figured that Niall would appreciate it. Happy birthday, and all that.”

“Happy birthday to Niall, then,” Harry tips his beer in the air. His eyes drift to Louis, who prays that the pillow obscures his bump. Telling Harry at a crowded party that he is three months away from giving birth to their child is not the way he wants to go about this. Harry just smiles.

“You look good, Lou.”

“Oh, you’re just being nice. Look at me!” Louis replies, gesturing towards his casual clothes and the bags under his eyes. Harry pauses before smiling wistfully.

“I am.”

Louis’ breath catches before he lets it out in a halting sigh. He tries to casually focus on the television, but he can still feel Harry’s gaze on him. After a moment’s hesitation, lets his head rest on Harry’s shoulders. “I’m knackered. I could fall asleep right here.”

“Been working a lot?”

“The usual amount. Which is a lot.”

“Well, you can if you want. Fall asleep, that is.”

“Nobody’s going to draw a cock and balls on my face, right?” He feels Harry’s shoulders shake with laughter, before he hears him murmur, “I won’t let them.”

Louis feels an ache in his chest, wondering how it could feel so easy and so good just sitting here with him. For the millionth time, he wonders what went wrong.

“I think we just took each other for granted,” Harry answers, his words slow and cautious. Louis wasn’t aware he voiced his question aloud. “I’m sorry for that, Louis. You deserved better.”

Louis sits up a bit and looks at Harry. He thinks of the day that Harry had tried to talk to him about the account he had just landed. Louis had just finished working nearly 12 hours at the salon, and he was strewn across the couch with his feet propped and eyes closed. Harry’s voice was rambling on, and despite the earnest excitement imbued in each word, Louis felt like he would scream if he wasn’t surrounded by silence. He had sat up, put his hand up, and said, “Could you please, Harry? I can’t listen to you right now.”

Harry’s face had fallen, and he had stiffly nodded. “Yep,” he had replied tersely. “I’ll just go-”

“I’m sorry,” Louis had tried as guilt coursed through him, but at that point, Harry was gone from the room.

Louis doesn’t stop himself from tucking some of Harry’s hair behind his ear. “It was both of us, honestly,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, too.”

For a moment, Harry just locks eyes with Louis, his body still like he’s trying not to disturb the moment.

Then he breathes out and, standing up from the couch, says, “It’s all water under the bridge. I’m going to get something to eat- want me to make you a plate?”

Louis exhales as well, hugging the pillow closer to his tummy. “Only if it’s good- I’m quite picky these days,“ he quips.

“I made some Guinness stew and an apple tart for the birthday boy,” Harry replies. Louis’ eyes light up.

“Yes! Make it two plates,” Louis grins. Harry gives him a thumbs up and walks away. As Louis spots him carefully ladling the stew into a bowl, he wonders if someday they’ll get it right.

* * *

**October**

Louis is in the stock room checking on their supply of hair toners and dyes when he hears Zayn’s surprised voice.

“Oh, hey Harry,” his louder-than-usual voice ringing out like an alarm. Louis’ hands fly towards his apron. He is glad he’s wearing a baggy tunic-style jumper today, though he is sure that even these would do nothing to conceal his pregnancy. At 32 weeks, he doesn’t think anything will.

“Sorry for the walk-in, but I could really use a haircut,” Louis hears Harry explain. He peeks out from behind the curtained doorway of the stock room and watches Harry run a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Zayn gestures towards his chair, barely concealing his grin. “Have a seat.”

Sheepishly, Harry sits down. “Is Louis around?”

Louis’ breath catches in his chest. Zayn keeps a straight face as he buttons the cape at the base of Harry’s neck.

“You just missed him, mate.”

Louis’ shoulders relax. He vows to give Zayn a raise, thankful for his friend’s discretion. He has no real reason not to tell Harry that they are having a baby together. As distant as things became towards the end of their relationship, Louis knew that he was and still is a kind person. But he can tell from the way he was excitedly telling everyone at Niall’s party about his new accounts in Scotland, the pictures he has posted of him and his friends, the lack of sadness in his eyes-- Harry has moved on.

“Oh,” Harry replies, glancing at his hands. He mutters, “Damn.”

Zayn pauses, mid-comb. “Did you need to talk to him?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, just… felt like seeing him.” Louis furrows his brow, his heartbeat starting to pick up its pace. “I’m going away for a few weeks, and I don’t know… I don’t have any real reason to tell him that. Just a habit, I guess.”

“That’s understandable,” Zayn motions for him to move towards the sink to have his hair shampooed. “Where are you going?”

“We’re expanding to the States, so I’m heading up the team for that,” Harry answers. “I’m flying out to Philadelphia tomorrow.”

“Not New York?”

“My friend Xander lives there, so I’m staying for a few days heading to New York. He’s been begging me to meet his family.”

Zayn continues to wash his hair as he glances towards the stock room, his eyes meeting Louis’ in silent sympathy. Louis eases himself into the hard folding chair, his chest twisting. His eyes fill with tears as he claps a hand over his mouth. He knows that he has no claim over Harry anymore, but the echoing words still sting.

“Let me grab some conditioner from the stockroom,” Zayn says. He leaves Harry reclined in the chair and walks quickly towards where Louis is hiding.

Zayn wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders, as his tears turn to sobs.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset,” Louis whispers.

“It’s okay to be upset, babe.”

Louis buries his face in Zayn’s shoulder, the scent of cigarettes and styling products familiar and soothing. He sits up as he rubs at his face with resolve.

“I’ll put on some loud music so you can escape out the back,” Zayn offers. “Unless you want to stay and talk to him?”

Louis shakes his head quickly. There is no way that Louis can tell Harry now- not in his salon with his blotchy face and tear-red eyes. Not after Harry has just gushed about meeting his new boyfriend’s family.

“I’ll fuck his hair up for you,” Zayn grins like a cheshire cat, his eyes glimmering.

Zayn’s mumbled threat brings tears of gratitude to Louis’ eyes. After years of friendship, they are all still close, but Zayn is, first and foremost, Louis’ best friend. Louis sniffles and shakes his head.

“No, don’t do that. It’s not his fault he’s moved on,” Louis sighs as he stares at his belly. “I should go.”

Zayn squeezes Louis’ shoulder again before standing up. “Text me if you need.”

Louis hauls himself out of the chair, with Zayn’s help. He takes one more glance at Harry, who is smiling at his phone as he types, before he turns towards Zayn.

“Blast the music, Malik.”

Zayn nods firmly. “Got it. Thrash metal, coming right up.”

As the frenetic sounds of double bass and guttural vocals fill the salon, Louis gathers his belongings and tiptoes towards the back door. He resists the urge to look back at Harry before opening the door and stepping out into the back alley, tears filling his eyes once more.

* * *

**November**

Louis is putting away baby clothes in the new dresser that his sisters gave him when the buzzer rings. Leaving the pastel yellow nursery, he walks towards the door and presses the intercom button.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It’s me,” Niall’s voice is scratchy through the intercom.

“Who?” Louis smiles. He’s always liked digging at Niall a bit, their friendship full of wry yet loving banter.

“Just let me up, you fucker,” Niall demands. “I brought beer.”

“Well in that case,” Louis buzzes him up, sucking in his giant pregnant belly in vain. Each time he’s seen Niall, he’s tried to remain sitting, but Louis reasons that if Niall doesn’t know by the end of the afternoon, then he probably is either oblivious or blind. He pulls on an oversized sweatshirt anyway.

Niall knocks before opening the door, a six-pack of beer in his hands.

“The beer’s for me, obviously,” he says, winking at Louis as he settles down on the couch. “What channel is the match on?”

Louis lets his hands fall to his sides, feeling stupid that he thought he could hide anything from Niall, who is likely the most astute and quietly intelligent people he knows.

“It’s on Sky,” he mumbles. “So…”

Niall stares at him intently for a few seconds before gesturing towards the couch. “Sit down, Tommo. That big pregnant belly of yours must be heavy.”

“Niall, it’s not like I tried to hide-” 

Niall wraps an arm around his shoulder and hugs him. “I’m not mad, you idiot. But you know you could’ve told me.”

Louis sighs. “I know. I found out a little late, and then I could never find the right moment.”

“So, you and Harry are back together then?” Niall asks, uncapping the beer. He takes a swig before a big grin overtakes his face. “My Larents.”

“Larents? What? No- no, Niall, we’re not-” Louis flusters. “He doesn’t even know.”

Niall practically chokes on his beer. “What? How did _this_ happen then?” he asks, pointing at Louis’ belly. “And how in the hell hasn’t he figured it out yet?”

“It was a ‘last hurrah’ type thing, I guess,” Louis explains. His face falls as he subconsciously wraps his arms around his stomach. “And maybe he does know… and just doesn’t care.”

He’s broken from his momentary sadness by a slap to his arm. “Cut the shit, Tommo,” Niall chides. “Of course he cares.”

“He cares so much he’s fucked off to the States to meet his dumb boyfriend’s family,” Louis retorts. “What kind of name is _Xander_, anyway? What kind of pretentious yuppie-”

He stops when he realises that Niall is staring at him like he has five heads. “Xander? Who the hell is that?”

Louis grabs a pillow and grips its edges as he remembers the casual way Xander wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “He’s Harry’s new boyfriend. He’s from Philadelphia, and he ‘makes it out to England any chance he gets.’”

His attempt at faking an American accent only makes him feel sad. He wonders if Harry had always wanted to be with an ambitious and carefree American boy. Louis shrugs in an attempt at seeming unbothered, but what comes out next is anything but.

“He’s happy and loved up, and I’m pregnant with a kid he doesn’t even know about!”

Niall’s face softens as Louis starts to cry. “Lou-”

“Oh god, I’m pregnant with our child, and he doesn’t even know! He doesn’t know and he probably doesn’t care-”

“Now, stop right there, Louis,” Niall interrupts. Placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders, he turns towards him, a serious gaze on his face. “I don’t know if Harry has a new boyfriend, but I _do_ know that he cares a lot about you. And I’m sure that if he knew that you two were about to have a baby, he’d be there.”

Louis cries quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with a tidal wave of emotion. The possibility that Harry has moved on made it easier for him to be angry, because if he was angry, then he wouldn’t notice his sadness and anxiety as much. He could be angry, so that he wouldn’t have to be lonely every day.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he whimpers. “We were supposed to get married and have our lives together. He would’ve wanted to be at the appointments-”

“He could still be! Let’s call him right now,” Niall urges, taking his phone out of his back pocket.

“No, oh my god, he can’t find out through Facetime!” Louis dives for the phone in his hands. He manages to wrest the phone from his friend’s grip, and he hides it beneath his legs.

Niall lays his head on the back of the couch and lets out a groan. “Fine. Can I at least just call him and tell him that we all need to get together, as soon as he gets back?”

Louis hesitates, worried that Harry will be with Xander when he answers, that he will have to witness with his own eyes just how far apart they have drifted.

“I promise, I won’t say anything. I just want to have a word with him,” Niall adds.

“You sound like you’re going to threaten him,” Louis smiles slightly. He wiggles the phone out from beneath him and hands it to him.

“For you, Tommo,” Niall grins, “Anything.”

Louis feels Baby kicking, as if they know they’re about to hear their father’s voice. Niall calls Harry through WhatsApp, and as it rings, Louis stands up.

“I can’t,” he says, wringing his hands. “I can’t talk to him right now, I’ve been crying, and I-”

“Niall!” a familiar voice interrupts. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well, mate, good to see you. I’m at Louis’, watching a footie match,” Niall replies, subtly trying to rope Louis into the conversation.

“Oh,” Harry’s voice brightens. “Hey, Lou!”

Louis sits down beside Niall and sees Harry’s smiling face on the screen. He can’t help but smile back. “Hi, Harry.”

“You look nice, did you do something to your hair?” Harry asks. Louis knows his hair looks phenomenal-- thick and glossy hair is likely the only good side effect from pregnancy. He hasn’t bothered to cut it, and its length curves down his neck. He brushes his longer fringe off his face.

“Just growing it out. Felt like something different, I guess,” he replies. “I see you’ve had the opposite idea.”

“Zayn cut it off before I left. I was hoping I’d see you at the shop, before I left, but-”

“Are you having fun in the States?” Louis asks, his words a self-sabotage. He doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Harry’s face falls slightly. “It’s been busy. I’m getting tired of hotel living,” he answers. Looking up, he locks eyes with Louis. “I miss being home.”

Louis’ breath catches in his chest, and he flounders for words. Luckily, Niall steps in.

“When are you coming back, anyway? Me and Tommo were just talking about all of us getting together.”

“In three weeks! Why, are you offering to pick me up from the airport?” Harry quips, offering Niall his most charming smile. Louis would’ve fallen for it, but Niall stands firm.

“On that note, bye Harry!”

“It was worth a shot,” Harry says. Gazing at Louis once more, his smile softens. “Good to see you, Lou.”

“Good to see you too,” Louis murmurs, his heart beating along with Baby’s kicks.

Niall ends the call before elbowing him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Three Weeks ‘til Operation Go Get Your Man commences.”

Louis shoves his shoulder before throwing a pillow at him. “Shut up!”

“You’re welcome!” Niall smiles as he opens another beer.

“Thanks, Niall… for calling him,” he mumbles, slumping onto his side, a bunch of pillows between his knees. Baby’s been pressing on his bladder, and he can’t seem to sleep at night.

“It’s alright, Tommo. You can fall asleep,” Niall says, picking Louis’ legs up and draping them over his knees.

His eyes droop sleepily, as the familiar hum of the football commentators and Niall’s grumbles fade to the background.

* * *

**December**

“I think you two found a new side business,” Niall points at Zayn and Liam, staring at the faux-wedding cake made of nappies sitting atop his dining table. Louis takes in the three tiers of nappies, covered in colourful roses and peonies, each layer wrapped in a pretty pale yellow ribbon, before he turns towards his friends.

“Thank you,” he says tearily. He had felt so alone for much of his pregnancy, but with only 2 weeks left until his due date, his friends still managed to make him- and Baby- feel so loved.

Liam smiles bashfully. “It was all Zayn’s design. I just helped with rolling the nappies and decorating it.”

“You placed the flowers in the perfect places, babe,” Zayn says, staring fondly at his boyfriend.

“Yeah, well, I cooked!” Niall interrupts. Louis laughs and moves to hug him, gesturing for Zayn and Liam to join their hug.

“Really, though. This means a lot,” he says. “Thank you for being here for us.”

Zayn hugs Louis before nuzzling his jumper-covered bump with his nose. “Of course we are.”

“And Harry is too- or at least he will be, once he finds out,” Niall adds.

Louis exhales heavily and digs his fists into his lower back, which has been twinging in pain all day. “You know, I was starting to feel relaxed, until you brought that up.”

Liam pulls out a chair for him. “It’ll be okay, Lou. Just explain everything- he’ll understand.”

Louis shakes his head as his eyes flit towards the door, as if he is expecting Harry to walk in at any moment. He supposes he could- Niall did invite him over, after all.

“He always talked about how he couldn’t wait to have kids, how he was so excited to pick out baby clothes and decorate the nursery… take those stupid month-by-month bump pics, see the ultrasounds,” Louis explains. “And he didn’t get to do that. Because I was too chicken-shit to tell him.”

He sits down and places his head in his hands. The room feels stifling and too small, as his thoughts keep barrelling through his mind. His stomach feels like it is curling in on itself.

“He’ll never forgive me for that. I’ve fucked it all up,” he chokes. “Even if he still loves me, this is too-”

His spiral is interrupted by a series of knocks on the door to the beat of “shave and a haircut.”

His head shoots up in horror. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Liam rubs his back, and with a gentle but firm voice says, “If you throw up, you throw up. But you also have to tell him.”

“Harry! Come on in!” Niall greets as he swings the door open.

“I brought some wine,” Harry says, holding up a bottle of red. “And I made a madeira cake.”

“Liam, did you know that he used to be a baker?” Zayn asks in a mock whisper, as they walk towards the door to greet him. Liam gasps, his eyes alight with laughter. “I did _not_, Zayn. Tell me more!”

“Fuck you,” Harry laughs, hugging them both. “Good to see you, too.”

“Welcome back. Thank you for baking me a cake,” Liam says, before grabbing the cake and walking towards the kitchen.

“It’s not for you, it’s for all of-”

Harry’s voice dies when he sees Louis slowly getting up from the table, where the cake made entirely of nappies sits on display.

“What’s…” Harry points weakly at the cake. He stumbles a bit as his eyes fall on Louis and his very large 38-weeks-pregnant baby bump. “Oh.”

The ticking of the clock is deafeningly loud as Harry and Louis stand before each other.

“Surprise?” Louis says, his voice shaking. His lower back and bump pulse in a dull pain, but with Harry standing in front of him, pale-faced and shocked, he tries to ignore it.

“Surprise,” Harry echoes, his chest rising and falling quickly. He collapses into a chair that Niall had silently and strategically placed behind him. “You’re…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees Niall, Liam, and Zayn quietly make their way to the kitchen, leaving them their privacy.

“I meant to tell you sooner,” Louis starts. “I didn’t realise until I was nearly halfway through, and then I-”

“It’s mine?” Harry whispers, as his eyes fill with tears. Louis nods, hesitantly placing his hand on Harry’s arm.

“I wanted to tell you, I did, but every time I saw you, I just froze.”

Harry’s hands float up towards Louis’ belly and settle there for a moment. His gaze is fixed reverently on the baby bump, his thumb softly rubbing in half-moons. The air between them is heavy with silence, and just as Louis is about to keep explaining, Harry interrupts.

“You could’ve told me. You _should’ve_ told me!” Harry looks up, his eyes shining with tears. He grips his hair in frustration. “I missed it. I would’ve been there for you-”

“I know! I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just thought that you…” Louis’ voice trails.

“You just thought what?”

Louis looks down, his voice trembling. “I thought you had moved on.”

“Moved on? I-” He feels Harry step closer to him as he raises his chin with his hand. As he cups his cheek in his hand, Louis closes his eyes. He finds himself leaning into his touch, just the feeling of his hands on his skin again unfurling something he tried for months to tamp down.

“Lou… I could never move on from you.”

Louis opens his eyes and slowly looks up to gaze at Harry. The question that has been weighing on his heart for months slowly emerges. “But what about Xander?”

Harry’s brow furrows. “What about him?”

“I thought he was your boyfriend?” Louis’ voice grows weak as Harry’s brow furrows even more. He can see the moment that comprehension settles in Harry’s brain. Harry breathes out a laugh as he starts to shake his head.

“Xander? No!” he laughs. “Straight frat boys aren’t really my type.”

“But you went to meet his parents? He visits you.”

“We’re friends,” Harry shrugs. He takes Louis’ hands in his and takes a breath. Softly, he says, “I love _you_, Louis.”

Louis’s heart swells as the weight on his shoulders seems to float away. He doesn’t realise he is crying until he feels Harry wipe his cheeks.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I never stopped.”

Louis buries his face in Harry’s shoulder, his bump squeezed between them. “I’m sorry I broke up with you. It was so stupid, I just gave up-”

“I gave up too,” Harry interrupts. “We fucked up.”

“I don’t wanna fuck up anymore,” Louis cries. “I just wanna be with you.”

Harry smiles through his tears, and it feels like sunshine to have that smile directed at him again. “That’s good,” he says. “‘Cause I just wanna be with you, too.”

“Me and Baby?” Louis asks, his hands touching his bump.

Harry falls to his knees and rests his forehead against Louis’ belly. His shoulders start to shake as he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. He looks up at him.

“Baby, come home. Let’s be a family.”

Louis is about to respond, when an aching pain starts to radiate through his thighs, lower back, and belly.

“Oh no,” he says, dumbly. He exhales as he grabs onto the table ledge. The pain courses through him for another few breaths before it subsides.

Harry’s eyes widen as he scrambles to his feet. “What? What is it?”

“I think,” he begins, looking up in a sort of hybrid of panic and bleak acceptance, “I think I’m in labour.”

Harry jaw falls slack, his eyes growing impossibly wide, before he starts stammering. “Okay. Alright. Let’s deal with this. Okay. What do we do? Um, okay!”

Louis is glad he is not in the middle of a contraction, or else he would probably find Harry’s frozen panic maddening instead of endearing. He calls for the other guys.

“Yeah?” he hears Niall’s voice, from the depths of his kitchen. The three of them emerge, plates of food in their hands.

“Somebody slap Harry back into reality,” Louis urges, as pain starts to spread downwards from the top of his belly.

“Are you back together?” Liam asks, his tone cautiously optimistic.

“Yes,” Louis grits out. “And I think I’m in labour.”

Niall nearly drops his plate before he manages to place it on the table. “Jesus,” he mutters.

“He’s in labour,” Harry mumbles, before he straightens up, his eyes determined. “Hospital. We need to get to a hospital.”

“Oh, thank Christ you got the memo,” Louis wheezes, the pain ending momentarily. He looks up and gives Harry his sweetest smile. “I’m sorry for the snark. I love you.”

Harry moves decisively towards Louis and places a hand on his lower back before kissing his forehead. “I love you too, darling. I’ll drive.”

“We’re coming too!” Zayn announces.

“My hospital bag is in my trunk. Someone call and reschedule my clients?” Louis explains, grabbing his winter coat. He throws his keys to Niall.

“We’re on it,” Liam nods.

They make their way down the stairs, taking pauses every few minutes to let the contraction pass. They are coming more and more frequently, and each one is worse than the one before. Louis’ c-section is for two weeks from now, but he knew there was always the risk of going into labour earlier than anticipated.

Harry is driving with determined focus, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other on the clutch, Louis’ hand resting atop his.

“We should probably talk,” Louis says, a bit breathless after his last contraction.

“Baby, you’re in labour,” Harry replies, his voice soft and sympathetic.

“But I don’t want to just pretend-” Louis starts, before another wave of pain crashes over him. He can hear Harry encouraging him and reminding him to breathe as he squeezes his eyes shut. A minute- or maybe a lifetime, Louis surmises, passes before he can finish his sentence. “I don’t want to pretend the last nine months didn’t happen.”

Harry pulls up to the stoplight before glancing over. “I know. We’ve made mistakes. We weren’t kind to each other.”

“I’m sorry for not supporting you,” Louis says, tears building up in his eyes. “I think about that time you landed that account, and…” his voice shakes before his face crumples. “I yelled at you to shut up.”

Harry smiles and starts to giggle. “That time in January?”

“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about it,” Louis cries. Another contraction hits, and he grips the door handle and Harry’s hand.

“Fuck,” he mutters, exhaling heavily.

“You’re doing amazing,” Harry murmurs. “I don’t care about any of that anymore, Lou. I became sort of a twat, didn’t I?”

“No, no you didn’t-”

“I did. It’s okay. I was obsessed with work. Got sort of swept away in it, didn’t I?”

“You were excited to find something good,” Louis replies. “There’s nothing wrong in that.”

“But I lost the best thing I had,” Harry says. “I stopped asking you how your day was. I stopped making time for you.”

“It’s not like I was much better. I just wanted to sleep and zone out whenever I was home. I was condescending about your ambition.”

“We were shit to each other,” Harry says sadly. He grabs Louis’ hand and kisses his knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Louis leans over the centre console and kisses him on the cheek, nuzzling his dimple with his nose.

“I’m sorry too,” he replies. He smiles and squeezes his hand. “And you didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”

Harry’s eyes fill with tears again, and Louis starts to giggle.

“Keep it together, Styles. _I’m_ the one in labour, here.”

“I just love you so much,” Harry sniffles, a smile spreading across his face. “I can’t believe we’re about to have a baby, I’m so happy.”

Not for the first time, it dawns on Louis that Harry is the love of his life. He has missed this smile every day for the last nine months. He wants to see it before his eyes drift closed at night, with only the moonlight to illuminate it. He wants to wake up in the morning from the bright sun and see it emerge on Harry’s pillow-creased face, his voice gravelly and low. He wants to see that smile as he plays with their tiny baby, as that baby grows into a toddler, and a child, their shrieks and laughs echoing against the walls of their home. He wants to see that smile as the lines around it start to deepen, as the light dusting of mustache hair turn grey and white. He wants that smile, and its owner, every day.

Louis is about to lean over and grab his face to kiss him, when a squeezing pain runs down his belly and across his back, the pressure bearing down on his pelvis.

“I…” Louis grunts, trying very hard to breathe. “I love you.”

Harry glances over and smiles before ducking his head down, a blush rising to his face. Louis pokes his dimple with his index finger, before bopping his nose lightly.

“I missed you, darling,” he murmurs after the contraction has ended. He can see the hospital up the street, and a thrill of both sheer panic and excitement runs down his spine. He is about to have a baby, and Harry is here with him.

Harry pulls the car through to the front of the A&E. Once they come to a complete stop, he turns to Louis, grabs his face in his hands, and kisses him.

This kiss is languid yet feverish, tender even as Harry holds him firmly in his hands. With Harry’s lips against his, Louis feels like this ship he has been sailing aimlessly has finally come home.

“Never again,” Harry breathes. He glances over Louis’ shoulder to see the A&E’s security guard eyeing them. “Baby, let’s go have a baby.”

Louis laughs a little at the determined tone of Harry’s voice, as if they are about to play a match of footie against their friends.

“Hey,” Harry says defensively. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I had a feeling you’d be the ‘fierce birth coach’ type,” Louis smiles. As he’s taking a step towards the security guard, he feels another contraction coming on. He is trying to get the words out, through the pain, when Harry arrives at his side.

“We’re having a baby,” he announces.

And at that, Louis feels like he can lay down all of the heaviness, and all the fears and questions that he has been carrying in his heart. They are having a baby, and he is not alone.

“Ready?” Harry asks, a wheelchair in front of him.

Louis takes his hand as he walks towards the chair. Sitting down, he glances up at him.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

**After**

If someone were to ask Louis what he remembers about the day he gave birth to Olivia Tomlinson-Styles, he would say this.

His heart beating quickly as he gasped for air on the operating table, fear that the surgery would somehow go wrong. The anaesthetist calmly stating, “Let’s give him an Ativan drip, please,” as Harry grasped onto Louis’ hands, his voice low and soothing, as he said, “Shh, Lou, it’s okay” over and over again like a prayer. The tugging that he felt at the base of his stomach, the beeping, and that blue-green fabric that they put up, like a curtain.

The doctors and nurses saying, “Okay, dads, we’re almost there!” and then, suddenly, a baby was held in the air. He remembers the doctors asking Harry if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord, and Harry standing, his eyes wide and his hands shaking. He remembers Harry’s tear-choked voice announcing, “It’s a girl!”

He remembers Olivia crying, shrill and louder than Louis had anticipated, yet still the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. He remembers, in his drugged-up state, asking the anaesthetist frantically where the baby went, if the baby was okay, when they took the baby into the heated room to clean and swaddle her up. He remembers Harry suddenly reappearing by his side, a bundle in his arms.

“Look, baby, it’s your dada,” Harry had whispered. And when Louis turned his head, he found the second love of his life.

“Oh,” he had marveled. “Isn’t she lovely.”

The first few weeks after the birth were a dizzying haze of midnight feedings and nappy changes, of spit-ups and tears (both Olivia’s and her dads’). Louis had to simultaneously heal from a major surgery while taking care of a newborn, and as he had anticipated, Harry was the best partner he could have ever asked for.

There was that moment when Louis was struggling to get out of bed because the c-section had rendered his torso muscles useless. He had wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck as he was pulled up to standing. Before letting go, Louis had let his head rest on Harry’s shoulder, breathing in that familiar scent of skin and soap.

“Thank you,” Louis had mumbled, slightly breathless from the exertion. “Thank you for being here.”

Harry, with crusty sick still on his shirt from earlier that morning and his face dusted with stubble, had simply smiled, and Louis fell in love all over again.

“Thank you for giving us another chance,” he had murmured.

Olivia is nearly two months old now, with Harry’s smile, and Louis’ nose. Her eyes are blue, and her hair is blonde, though it seems to grow darker every day. Her favourite things are when Harry makes funny faces at her, cuddling on her playmat with Louis, and taking long naps.

“She’s still out?” Harry whispers, gesturing towards their snoozing baby who’s sprawled out on her playmat, her limbs starfished.

“Tummy time must have worn her out,” Louis grins. He throws his head back and chugs a glass of water, breathless after he downs a pint in one go. He looks at Harry and freezes, realising that his boyfriend is staring him down with dark eyes.

“How long do you think she’ll stay asleep?” Harry murmurs, caging Louis in against the kitchen counters.

“I don’t know. Half an hour?” Louis feels the hairs on his arms stand, despite the heat from Harry’s body against his.

During his most recent follow-up appointment with the obstetrician, he was given the green light to engage in… certain recreational activities again. His body aches for Harry, despite the tiredness that seems to have settled in his bones.

“We have to be quiet,” he says, as Harry noses his neck, his lips dragging roughly. His stubble brushes against Louis’ skin, and his eyes roll back.

“Okay,” Harry replies, as his hands grip Louis’ arse through his three-day-old flannelette pyjamas.

“Haz, I don’t even remember the last time I showered.”

“Don’t care,” Harry says. “Do you?”

Louis takes in the bags under Harry’s eyes and the dirty t-shirt he’s still wearing from yesterday, his mussed hair that is probably more oil than anything else. He can't remember the last time he wanted Harry as much as he does now. They’re new parents with a sleeping baby and a green light from the doctor to have sex.

“Not at all,” he says, his thumbs hooking over the waistband of Harry’s joggers.

\--  
Louis knows he needs to sweep around his workstation. His last client’s hair is scattered on the floor, and his scissors and combs need to be sanitised. But he just can’t bring himself to do it. He plops onto his chair and sighs contentedly as he closes his eyes.

“You seem exhausted,” Bebe says, placing her hand against his forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

“I don’t think so,” Louis answers, opening his eyes. “Just tired, is all.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately,” she points out. She starts sweeping his workstation, and he smiles gratefully. He hears Zayn snort from a few chairs away, where he’s foiling his client’s hair.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Zayn laughs.

“That’s not funny,” Louis chides. “I have a 3-month-old, when would we have had time to-”

His words die before he can finish his sentence. “Oh, shit.”

Bebe’s eyebrows are frozen in shock on her forehead, while Zayn drops his brush in his bleaching bowl.

“I was just kidding, mate, are you really-”

And Louis just thinks about his sweet baby girl and her even sweeter father, the way the sunlight streams in and makes their smiles even brighter when they’re playing on the living room floor. He thinks of Harry’s voice as he sings to her during nappy changes, the copious number of pictures of her that he has displayed in his office. Louis thinks about the way Olivia looks up at him and smiles midway through feedings, the way her little hands grasp onto his. He thinks of the way that he and Harry collapse into bed when their days are done, their hands intertwined. “What was your favourite part of the day?” Harry would often ask, and more times than not, Louis’ answer was always, ”All of it.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Louis says, shrugging lightly.

He never meant to stumble into this life. Two years ago, he had thought they would get married and travel the world, and then eventually settle down to have children. One year ago, he had thought that dream was over. If he were anyone else, he would think his life was messy. Mistakes after mistakes, a life unplanned.

But Louis, with his heart full from this glorious mess that his life has become, just places his hands on his stomach. He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 
> 
> Title taken from the Australian parenting podcast called "This Glorious Mess." 
> 
> I'm at [tumblr](http://braveboldlouis.tumblr.com). Say hello!


End file.
